The First Day of the Rest of the Life of Oreki Houtarou, Private Eye
by Fox in the Stars
Summary: Satoshi walked into Houtarou's office wearing an even bigger grin than usual — and that meant trouble. Not the bad, bring the revolver, "God, I hate when I'm right" kind, but trouble. The "Kiss your energy reserves goodbye" kind. Film-(mildly)-Noir A/U.


**The First Day of the Rest of the Life of Oreki Houtarou, Private Investigator**

by Fox in the Stars

for Oryx, Parallels Fanwork Exchange 2013

based on Hyouka by Yonezawa Honobu and Kyoto Animation

Harsh stripes of summer afternoon sun slanted into the office of Oreki Houtarou, Private Investigator. Even chopped into slices by the shadows of the blinds, even assailed by the thrumming of the electric fan cranked up to high, the beams were still so scorching that they raised the smell of wood and varnish off his battered desk and through the entire room.

Clearly, it was too hot to work.

The only protection he had against the heat was the electric fan, and with it running at full blast any paper in front of him would make a break for it, making it too much trouble even to read a book — or to write back to his sister, if there was any point in that when she was probably halfway up the Nile by now.

No, days like this were just there to be survived, and Houtarou was lounging in his desk chair on the edge of a nap. Occasionally he opened his eyes and glanced over at the couch that had served him for a bed since the messy breakup last year rousted him out of Mayaka's apartment downstairs. People said it made the place look like a low-rent shrink's office, but it was nice to have at a time like this. Still, he'd have to unplug the fan, haul it across the room, plug it into the other outlet... And the chair wasn't really so bad...

The fan was so loud and Houtarou so nearly asleep that he barely heard two footsteps before the door opened — without a knock. He opened one eye to see if that meant what it usually meant.

He needn't have bothered. "Hey, Sherlock," came the familiar sunny voice.

Sure enough, it was Satoshi, wearing his policeman's blues and an even bigger grin than usual — and that meant trouble. Not the _bad_, bring the revolver, "God, I hate when I'm right" kind, but trouble. The "Kiss your energy reserves goodbye" kind.

Well, it wasn't like he didn't owe Satoshi any favors. Plenty of cases would have been a lot more trouble without the beat cop who was an inch-by-inch map of the city plus three sections of the library poured into a pair of patent leather shoes, and most of his income came from the "consulting detective" jobs his friend wrangled out of the police department for him. Actually joining the force would be way too much work, and the salary would cost the department more in the long run, so the setup was better for everyone. And it was regular enough to pay the bills — since private clients regarded Houtarou as a last resort. He'd found that setting his price by how little he wanted a job was easier than saying "no" to someone's face, but he had Scrooge's reputation to show for it.

Today, though, it was too hot to work, and he was far enough ahead on his rent to keep Mayaka quiet even after the messy breakup... Even with Satoshi, maybe he could weasel out of it this time...

"So, whaddya want?" he asked.

"Hey, is that any way to talk to a lady?"

Houtarou pulled a deep breath and woke up as Satoshi cleared the doorway for a lady — of sorts. She was about their age, with a fresh face and long, shining black hair cut in an old-money style with squared locks at the sides — but then pulled up in a careless bun that had been jostled half-loose and lightly powdered with something Marie Antoinette would never have used. This lady was dressed in coveralls that were also smeared with dust. Her wide, bright violet eyes didn't match the rest of the look, but they scanned the room drinking everything in as if this shabby office was the Eighth Wonder of the World.

At last those eyes lighted on the guy behind the desk, and she bowed too-politely. "Pleased to meet you — ah..." She glanced back to check the name on the door.

"Nevermind the formalities, just tell him your problem," Satoshi said. He pulled a chair around beside the desk and turned the fan that way without so much as a by-your-leave.

"Um, okay..." The girl collected herself and brought her palms down on Houtarou's desk with sudden vehemence. "I'm here to report a theft!"

"Uh... huh..." Houtarou slid a sideways glance at Satoshi, as much as to say "well, you've got a cop right here," but the cop in question had taken off his hat and sat in smug bliss as the fan blew through his sweat-damp hair.

"But I don't want to bother the people," the girl added.

"Sounds complicated," Houtarou allowed. At least it made sense now why Satoshi would have brought her here. "So, what happened?"

"Well, a little while ago I was in the butcher shop on Sixth Street," she explained. "They were busy with the new shipment, so he and the assistant kept going into the back and then coming to the counter. One time when the assistant came up I heard him set a tray down, then he went around to check some people out at the register, but when he went back, it was gone!"

Houtarou blinked at her, feeling as if he'd missed something and gotten on the wrong streetcar. "Come again?"

"I heard him put that tray down, and then it just disappeared! He said 'now where did it go?' and there were customers right there but nobody saw what happened to it! It was just scraps they were going to throw away; he told the butcher, but—"

"_What?_" Turned out he'd heard her story right, and it wasn't even about a filet mignon; she was seriously here about some missing garbage. He side-eyed Satoshi more sharply — apparently his friend had just brought this girl up here to screw with him and get out of the heat — but to no effect. "Look, this really isn't —"

"_But it just made me so __**curious!**_"

Startled by her tone, Houtarou made the mistake of looking up into her eyes and suddenly found himself transfixed as the smell of broiling wood finish went cold, cold as Christmas. The yellow bars of sunlight coming through the blinds vitrified into jewel-blue layers of ice that wrapped around him where he sat, kissing the sweat off his neck and crackling "_I'm curious! I'm curious!_" like the girl's voice echoing off a hundred Hope Diamonds. That wasn't dirt or powder in her hair, it was snow, a crown of intricate branching crystal that would turn Marie Antoinette green with envy — and there the girl was, leaning toward him like she was the Snow Queen who'd just found some poor soul trapped in the ice and couldn't bear to waste one second setting him free...

Only by tapping into his energy reserves for the utmost exertion of will did Houtarou manage to break contact, squeeze his eyes shut and throw himself back in his chair. That Satoshi would have brought this girl up here and fanned her hopes just to screw around suddenly made his blood boil — but not boil hot enough to take the job. "Just... Stop right there."

"But...!"

"You saw it on the door, right? 'Private Investigator.' I don't solve cases for free."

"Um, okay. So..." the girl said slowly.

Houtarou rushed his agitated mind over some quick-and-dirty math, inexplicably desperate to beat her to the punch. "Five hundred." When a girl showed up in dirty coveralls and this office was enough to impress her, there was no way she had that kind of money.

"'Five...'"

"You heard me," he insisted. "Five hundred dollars — plus expenses."

Satoshi _snickered_. Houtarou finally opened his eyes again to glare daggers at him, but just a sliver in the corner of his eye was enough for that girl to draw his gaze back to her. Her hands were raised and curled before her chest; her shoulders were squared, and her mouth drawn up tight — not in a pout, but in an attitude of intense cogitation. She was _actually thinking_ about the deal on offer, with determination flashing in her eyes.

"Mmmmm!" Her mental machinery audibly ground out an answer, and her palms came down on the desk again. "All right! I'll pay it!"

Houtarou nearly fell out of his chair.

"Oh, yeah," Satoshi remarked. "I forgot to introduce you two. Oreki Houtarou, this is Chitanda Eru."

_Chitanda._ The name went through Houtarou like another, not-so-pleasant bolt of ice — the name of one of the richest families in town. Around here, if you decided to boycott the Chitandas, your options were to move two counties or starve.

"She helps out on their trucks sometimes," Satoshi added.

_Why you...!_ He hadn't 'forgotten' the introductions, he'd made certain to forestall them and leave Houtarou headed like an innocent lamb to the butcher shop, led by an heiress in dirty coveralls. Even now, when he'd seen through it, there was no way he could object...

Having pulled off the perfect crime, Satoshi rose from his chair and sauntered over to the door to make his getaway.

"Thank you, Officer Fukube," Chitanda called brightly.

"Think nothing of it. All in the line of duty..."

Houtarou wanted to call after him using different words, but he couldn't get them past the back of his throat.

The door clacked shut. Chitanda turned back to face Houtarou with a smile as bright as the sun glancing off snow. Those eyes shone down on him...

There was no escape.

* * *

Four hours later, Chitanda was still impossibly chipper as Houtarou trudged back at her heels with a bag of groceries under each arm and his new office cat exploring his slumped shoulders.

* * *

The "mystery" was easy enough. Between what Houtarou could deduce and what Chitanda already knew about the possible suspects, he had the answer without leaving his desk. The scraps that had been taken were worthless except maybe as catfood, stuff any butcher would have given away for the asking, so there was no point in stealing them unless the culprit — someone with behind-the-counter access — had a project they didn't want _this_ one to know about _and_ would have trouble just going to another one. Turned out the answer literally was catfood; the butcher had a six-year-old who loved kitties, her parents wouldn't let her keep an animal that would be that tempted by their merchandise, and so she had found one and was keeping it somewhere and feeding it on the sly. None of the customers had seen her because they weren't looking and she was shorter than the counter.

So far so good, and easy money; Chitanda clearly had no doubt that he was right — but that wasn't enough. As soon as she knew there was a cat, she just had to see it and wouldn't abandon it to the cold cruel world. Again, those eyes got him, and there was no escape.

If he had it to do over again he at least wouldn't have let her stop downstairs to freshen up. Not only did it give Mayaka a chance to hassle him and Satoshi more time to show him that insufferable grin, but when Chitanda came out of the powder room she actually looked her part, so now he'd been seen all over the neighborhood trailing after an heiress like a puppy from one of those droopy breeds of dog.

They did find the cat, a kitten probably born in the spring, white on the bottom and silver tabby on the top. Caught the girl red-handed into the bargain, and then — he still didn't know how — Houtarou had been volunteered to adopt the animal and let the kid "visit" it sometimes. And so, with the little thing clawing its way up his sleeve, he and Chitanda set off for home.

"My house is too far away for her," Chitanda explained as they walked. "I can pay you for the food, though."

"Just forget it," Houtarou grumbled.

"You said 'five hundred dollars plus expenses,' didn't you?" she asked, glancing back with wide eyes that showed all sincerity and not a speck of hard feelings. "It's an expense."

"I said forget the money," he declared more sharply. "I don't charge for animals under ten pounds." Throwing away five hundred dollars — and setting a precedent that he just knew he'd regret — was the dumbest thing he'd done in a while. It was crazy all the way through; sitting in his office, he could have taken it, but now that he'd actually earned it, it would bother him more than it was worth. He just wanted the day to be over.

"But..." Chitanda glanced back again. Houtarou couldn't see the look on his own face, but it was apparently enough to cut off whatever she meant to say. She had to walk along for a while with a thoughtful finger to her chin before brightening up again. "Let me buy you dinner!" she insisted.

"Huhh?"

"I'd feel bad if I didn't at least do that."

"No, I... I'm eating in tonight. Sandwiches." He'd already been seen traipsing all over the neighborhood with an heiress, he really didn't need to be seen taking her to dinner.

And yet she beamed at him, as unexpectedly as if he'd bumped a light switch by mistake. "That's perfect!"

Instead of a restaurant, she dragged him through a grocery store and home to Mayaka's kitchen, where Mayaka was reading one of her comic books and Satoshi was just plain waiting and looking much too satisfied with himself. He might not have moved since they left, even though he was supposed to be on duty, but accusing someone else of slacking was more trouble than Houtarou could spare, especially with Mayaka in the room. He only dropped the grocery bags on the table, slumped into a chair and face-down onto the table, paying just enough attention to ensure the safety of the cat and his fedora.

"Oreki-san?" Chitanda queried.

"Don't worry, he's just being dramatic," Mayaka told her. "—Oh, where'd you get the kitty?"

Houtarou heard it mew protestingly as Mayaka pried its claws off his back — "Oh, hush, you know who's going to do all the work taking care of you, right?" — and after that, he was vaguely aware of the groceries being moved around and Chitanda taking charge of the kitchen. He didn't raise his head, just lay still and let the fan blow through his hair as she related the whole adventure, such as it was. The catfood she'd bought rattled into a bowl, the chicken and ham sizzled on the stove, and a fresh green scent wafted from the cutting board — cucumbers, who put fresh cucumbers on a sandwich? At one point it even smelled like she was cooking the bread.

By that time Chitanda had gotten Mayaka past the inevitable outburst about just how over she and Houtarou were, and the two had settled into easy conversation. Satoshi didn't say a thing to them; he just sidled closer to Houtarou and nudged his shoulder.

"Good hunting, huh?" he said, quietly enough to keep it just between them.

Houtarou turned his head enough to give a sour look.

"Just thinking about your future." The grin had turned milder but even more dangerous. "She gets curious a _lot_."

Houtarou was straightening up under the force of some half-formed objection when Chitanda called "Sandwiches are ready!" and set the first one in front of him on a plate.

That crazy sandwich, with pan-grilled French bread and more vegetables than the average salad... It had arrived just as he was deciding that he was completely done with this day, and he picked up the plate and pushed his chair back. "Well, thanks..." He didn't care if it was rude or not...

Until, halfway to his feet, he opened his eyes, saw how Chitanda was looking at him, and suddenly couldn't move. Her eyes still weren't hurt or reproachful, just — curious. In fact it was the same curious look he had already learned to recognize, only different in inflection but basically the same, the look that said something had gone wrong with the world and Chitanda Eru wouldn't rest until it was put right or at least she understood it...

"Did you forget?" she asked him.

His mind almost froze in a quiet panic. What had he forgotten? The cat? Mayaka was still cuddling it; he glanced over at her to be sure — and saw, just behind where she was sitting, the curve of the refrigerator door. Then he remembered the feel of the grocery bag in the crook of his left arm, the hard, cold carton in the bottom... "Oh. Right."

"You have to stay for dessert," Chitanda confirmed with a satisfied smile. "We bought ice cream."

終


End file.
